


Spirit of the West

by cellofreakmd



Category: Red Dead Redemption
Genre: Character Turned Into a Ghost, Eventual Romance, Eventual Smut, F/M, Ghost Sex, The Future Past Timeline
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-03
Updated: 2019-01-24
Packaged: 2019-10-03 07:13:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 12
Words: 19,506
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17279468
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cellofreakmd/pseuds/cellofreakmd
Summary: After Arthur's death, he is unable to move on. His spirit wanders Beecher's Hope alone, until 21st century woman Maisie Walker buys the ranch to "get back to nature"





	1. Haunted

**Author's Note:**

> Hi! This is my very first fic! Please have some patience with me. I have big ideas for this, but I don't feel like this first chapter conveyed a lot of that. Thank you for reading!

Spirit of the West  
Chapter 1: Haunted

Arthur looked over the mountain at his last sunrise. His breath was ragged in between angry coughs, but he was content. He seemed fitting that he passed these last moments alone. After a life of such conflict and violence, the quiet chill of the mountain felt like undeserved peace. He worked hard to make amends for the death he had caused, including the death that of Mr. Downes that had caused his own, but reparations made by the dying can never surpass the fault of the living. He knew this, but tried all the same.  
His eyes grew heavy as he resigned himself to death on this mountaintop. He took one last look around at his final resting place, where Dutch and Micah had left him to die. Micah, Micah, Micah. How did it come to this? To him? Arthur didn’t have the energy to be angry anymore, though. The time for proving that Micah was a rat was long gone, and no longer his concern.  
He remembered all the places he could have died, should have died, and realized that this spot wasn’t all that bad. At least it wasn’t Guarma. The pain of his illness, his inability to breathe, the injuries on his face, it all began to fade away into the blackness as the morning sun shone around him. With a final wheeze, Arthur Morgan let go, and the last bit of life faded from his failing body. 

With the same grace that the darkness took him, light began to glow through his eyelids. Feeling returned to his hands and feet, but the pain of injury and illness did not. Arthur hesitantly opened his eyes. He wriggles his eyebrows and scrunched his nose. “Well,” he said aloud to himself. “This don’t quite make sense.” He heard his own voice, back to its usual gravel, but without the hoarseness that tuberculosis brought upon it. He reached a hand to his face, and found the bruises from his final battle gone. He sat up with uncharacteristic ease. He moved his hands into his lap. With horror, he saw his hands move, yet another, rougher set was left of the stone of the mountain. He turned around to see his body, precisely where he left it, complete with the scars of his last moments. 

He realized that while he had regained consciousness, he was not alive. He gave an exasperated sigh. “All this time I spent belly-achin’ over heaven and hell, and what was going to happen to a bastard like me, and I ain’t goin’ to neither!” He shook his head, and mumbled curses under his breathe. He stood up and looked out over the mountain, then back to his body. It was surreal, to look at himself so candidly. His long beard and shaggy hair did little to conceal the toll that years of fighting and tuberculosis took on his face. He shook his head again. “Always was an ugly son of a bitch,” he said with a frown. 

The gravity of his new situation slowly weighed down on him, his reality now terrifyingly freeing. I could go anywhere, he thought. But how far can I get from my body before I have to come back? He glanced around at the stone edges of the ridge, calculating his next move. He took a hesitant step, back the way he came originally. He winced as he anticipated some force to drag him back down to his earthly shell, or even hell, but neither came. He opened one eye cautiously to look for any changes. He found none. He took a step. Then another, and another, and another, until he felt eerily similar to his old self. He kept walking, probably growing too comfortable in his new skin, when his ankle twisted on a rock.

He fell back, then tumbled down the steep path. He felt a stone connect with his skull before he skidded to a halt. He reached up slowly to assess the damage, but found none. Suspicious again, his eyes widened in confusion and both hands patted expectedly around his head. There was still nothing there but head. Arthur looked down at the ankle that had twisted, but found it to be right as rain. He slowly got to his feet, waiting again for something to drag him down, but nothing happened. With that, he realized he had some unfinished business to attend to. 

He walked all day, but didn’t feel the exhaustion of a long day’s travel. He thought about breaking a horse, but animals seemed to be afraid of him. “Funny enough,” Arthur thought out loud. “They’re more afraid of me in death than they were in life, and now I don’t have to hunt them for nothin’. Silly little things.” Night fell over the Grizzlies as he found his way to flatter ground. He thought about setting up camp, but had nothing to pitch and no desire to sleep. So, he kept walking under the moonlight.

Arthur didn’t know just quite how he knew where he was going, but something told him he was heading the right way. He wandered for days, letting his new sense of intuition carry him along. He lost his sense of time, and had no idea how far he had travelled. He eventually stumbled upon a ranch, brand new by the looks of it. The moon reflected off the pale wood and he saw the warm glow of a fire from inside. Maybe the family wasn’t asleep quite yet. He approached a window, and saw a familiar old man asleep by the fire. Arthur chuckled to himself. “Good to know some things haven’t changed.” He glanced around to see if there was a way to enter the house. He pressed his hand to the fresh wood on the wall, and his hand slipped through. He was startled at first, but soon realized he had found his mode of entry.

Arthur stood by the fire, expecting warmth, but felt nothing. I suppose this numbness ain’t just for pain, then. He thought. He heard feet on the floor across the house, and ran to hide in a corner. He still had no idea if people could see him. The steps came closer from the kitchen as Arthur’s anxiety grew. Little Jack Marston came into the sitting room and froze.  
“Jack!” Arthur exclaimed before he could help himself. “Uncle Arthur?” Jack asked, his voice a mix of fear and confusion. “Hi, pal,” Arthur said, his voice low and sweet. “Are you okay, Uncle Arthur?” Jack asked, fear and confusion now combining with concern. “Yeah, I’m okay, Jack. Do you like your new house?” The young boy’s face lit up as his attention rapidly shifted. “It’s great! I sleep inside, and I have my own bed!” Arthur smiled at Jack’s enthusiasm.  
“Jack, who’re you talking to?” said a voice from one of the bedrooms. “Pa! Uncle Arthur is here!” Jack replied. John walked into the sitting room, wearing his red long-johns and an expression of concern. He looked around the room cautiously before turning to Jack. “Son, there’s no one in here, but you, me, and that snoring ole fool by the fire.” “I promise, Pa! He’s right over there!” John looked toward Arthur, but not at him. His face was lined with sadness and fear. “Your Uncle Arthur is gone, Jack. He ain’t here.”  
Arthur’s heart broke as Jack’s happy expression melted into grief. Tears rolled down his cheeks. “But Pa…”  
“No, Jack. Let’s go on to bed.”  
“Don’t you believe me?”  
“I would love to believe you, son, but he just ain’t here”

Upon hearing the disagreement, Abagail walked into the room. “What’s all fuss about at this hour? Jack, why ain’t you in bed?” Jack grew frustrated at his parents for not believing him. “It’s Uncle Arthur! He’s right there! And Pa won’t believe me!” His mother gave a frightened glance around the room as she drew her son to her chest. “Your Uncle Arthur is dead, love,” she said, stroking his hair, attempting to comfort him. He could not be distracted. “Then why is he standing there, watching us fight over whether or not he’s here?” He stomped his little foot and threw his arm in Arthur’s direction.

Arthur, who had been so distracted by the quarrel, was completely unprepared for all 6 eyes to land on him, knowingly or otherwise. “Hi John,” he said quietly. “Hi Abagail.” They didn’t seem to hear him. John and Abagail looked uncomfortably at each other, then down at Jack. “See?” their son asked, incredulously. “He said hi!” John shook his head. “That’s it, you’ve read too many books. Bed. Now”.

Arthur felt anger rise in him as John continued to deny and discount his son. He scanned the room for some way to make himself known. He saw his hat hanging on a coat rack near the door. He ran over to it, to grab it, and show John that his son was right, but his hand slipped through it. He tried again. Still nothing. He tried and tried, until his frustration boiled over. In a moment of anger, he smacked at the hat. Suddenly, the hat flew to the floor. Arthur shrugged at it, impressed by his new skill but unsure how to repeat the process. And John, well, he looked like he had seen a ghost. 

Abagail pressed her lips together. “Jack, did Uncle Arthur just knock his hat off?” she asked quietly. “Yes, momma! I told you he was here!” The color began to return to John’s cheeks as tears fell down them. “I’m sorry I yelled at you, Jack. We need to get you to bed.” he said, barely audible. “But what about Arthur?” Jack asked. “I have a feeling Arthur ain’t going anywhere for a while” John said, with a wistful smile. 

 

And he was right. With nowhere else to go, Arthur spent his eternity around Beecher’s Hope. He saw John hunt Micah, eventually killing him. He saw Abagail and Jack get kidnapped by Agent Ross, that damn bastard, and John having to hunt down Bill, Javier, and Dutch for him. It seemed almost fitting to Arthur that Dutch should die in the mountains. He never saw Dutch loitering around the same way he was, so Arthur imagined that Dutch had a more determined fate than purgatory. He saw John die, Ross finally killing the entirety of the Van der Linde gang, only to be killed by Jack in Mexico

He only saw John afterwards in a small flash of light, before he disappeared into nothing. It seemed that Arthur was the only one suspended between heaven and hell. Could loneliness be part of his eternal punishment? He redeemed himself only enough to not burn in hell, but was still enough of a bastard that heaven won’t let him in?

Time crawled on endlessly. Jack left West Elizabeth to be a writer in New York. Arthur did not follow. A new family bought the ranch, but they didn’t last very long, and Arthur was sad to see them go. The next several decades passed this way. The ranch got smaller and smaller, and the house spent more time vacant and for sale than occupied. Arthur wondered why he couldn’t leave, but the same gut feeling that brought him to Beecher’s Hope that first morning insisted he stay. Stay. Change is coming soon enough. He heard his conscience remind him every time he thought about leaving. 

Over a century had passed, and technology had changed the world Arthur knew so much that it was unrecognizable. Lights came on by switches on the walls now. These things called phones ring, and there’s someone on the other end to talk to. Confusion and fascination with these new changes were small consolation to perpetual loneliness. It had been 20 years at least since anyone had even been in the house. That is, until she walked in. 

Her hair was long and dark, and pulled up in a ponytail. Her golden brown eyes scanned the dusty furniture and empty rooms as she walked, her boots clicking softly on the hardwood floor. Arthur was enthralled by the way she moved, by the intelligence in her face, by the way she seemed to draw him in with such a force as he had scarcely felt. He stood, slack-jawed, in the corner of the sitting room, more than happy to simply watch her. She scanned the sitting room, then squinted in Arthur’s direction. If he still had a heartbeat, it would have been racing as her eyes looked directly at him. No one had seen him since Jack was a small boy. She tilted her head and cracked a small smile. “Well, hi, cowboy.”


	2. Introductions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arthur and Maisie get to know each other.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! I'm sorry this is short, but I wanted to go to sleep, and I feel like the first chapter just doesn't have enough to chew on.

Spirit of the West  
Chapter 2

“Well, hi, cowboy,” she said with a smile. Arthur foolishly turned around to see if, for some reason, there was another cowboy standing near him. Surely, she wasn’t talking to him. “I…uh… I uh…” he stammered, watching his fingers, as if they knew how to speak to the first woman he’s seen in ages. Her smile grew at his struggle, and she continued her self-guided tour of the house. 

Arthur’s surprise was replaced with a sense of urgency as he followed behind her. “Miss? Can you see me?” She turned her shoulder and chuckled. “I can hear you, too.” His head spun as he heard the first response to his question in years. “But how? How can you see and hear me?” She stopped walking and smiled at him, meeting his eyes. “Is this the first time anyone has acknowledged you?” Arthur laughed, a deep belly laugh that had died with him on that mountain. “In a long, long time, yes ma’am.” “Well,” she started “I have a gift. I’m very sensitive to energies and spiritual things. You’ve been lonely a long time, haven’t you, friend?” Arthur looked away, but nodded. “I could feel you desire to be noticed, and it made your energy easier to parse through than most.” 

Arthur blinked. She continued her walk through the house before walking back to the door. He snapped out of his haze and followed her out the door to her car. She had bags to carry in, and Arthur tried to help, but he couldn’t quite understand how to carry things. She merely smiled at him as he tried, then took the bag herself. 

“And what shall I call you, since we can so easily communicate?” she asked, setting down her bags. Arthur reeled for a moment. It was unclear whether it was the passage of time, or the way her brown eyes were soft on his face that caused his lapse of memory. “Uh, Arthur. Arthur Morgan.” “Well, hi, Mr. Morgan.” she said, a soft, slow lilt on her vowels. “My name is Maisie Walker.” Arthur fiddled with his suspenders. “It’s very nice to make your acquaintance, Ms. Walker.” She wistfully smiled. “Mrs. Walker was my mother, and a poor one at that. Please, call me Maisie.” Arthur kicked at a raised floor board. “Alright, then, Maisie.”

The two held a glance a moment too long, then Maisie hurriedly began to put things away. Arthur again tried to help, but the canned goods she was unloading hardly reacted to his touch. “Maisie, I would sure like to be useful right now, but these damn cans!” She chuckled again. “That’s quite alright, Mr. Morgan. I didn’t anticipate having any help. At least I have some company.” “Yeah, what are you doing buying an abandoned ranch alone, anyway?” She smiled, but it was clear she found no joy in the story. 

“Well, I was raised in Dallas. My father was a shitty businessman until he married my mother, who is of oil fortune. Now he’s just a rich shitty businessman. I was dating a man named Ed Gillespie, who is from a rival oil company. My parents all but forced us together. They thought if I married Ed, then the two companies might have a merger. I almost married him, too.” She stopped talking and looked at her hands. Her left hand was notably empty of any ring. “I wanted to go to law school. Ed thought it unbecoming to have more education than he did. When I told him it wasn’t his decision to make, he broke my nose.” She shrugged her shoulders. “Momma and Daddy… informed me… that this relationship was about more than love, or even respect. They offered to get me a nose job so that my wedding pictures wouldn’t have my new crooked nose. I took their money, and I bought this old place. I was hoping to fend for myself out here, work the land, and such.” She smiled again, but painfully so.

Arthur shook his head a bit, marveling at the passage of time. “Y’know, the more things change, the more things stay the same. What the hell were they thinkin’? It has to be, what? 1990? At least?” Maisie laughed, a real laugh, at the incredulousness of Arthur’s sense of time. “2019, Mr. Morgan.” He waved his hand, dismissing her amusement. “Well, hell, Maisie, I ain’t got a calendar!” This only made her laugh harder, and he was very grateful for the sound. He laughed with her. Her laugher died down, and she looked at Arthur directly. “It’s awful funny that I bought this whole ranch to be away from men, and there’s already one living in it.” “Nah, there ain’t. I’m not livin’.” She nodded, acknowledging that she had been bested. “And I’m the one that wanted to go to law school.”


	3. Warmth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Maisie's first night at Beecher's Hope is cold, and Arthur struggles with his inability to help her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> These always feel so much longer until I post them! Damn!

Spirit of the West  
Chapter 3: Warmth

Night fell over Beecher’s Hope as Maisie unpacked and darkness swallowed the kitchen. Arthur stood idle, watching his hands. His hands! Good lord! He’s had the same hands for quite a while now, but with Maisie around, he has to pretend that his hands are the most interesting thing he’s ever seen. It’s bad enough he’s in her new home; he doesn’t want to stare or lurk. She looked at the pile of boxes in the middle of the kitchen, then sighed. “Well, Mr. Morgan, I believe it is time for bed.” Arthur nodded absentmindedly. “Yeah, it is gettin’ late.”

The realization hit him as she left the kitchen. “Miss Maisie, y’aint got a bed, have you?” She shrugged and kept walking. “I can make do.” She grabbed a couple of blankets and pillows from a suitcase. She put one blanket down, so as to keep her off the dusty floor. “See? A bed.” She waved her hands in the direction of the floor. “Tada.” Arthur blanched. “Ya cain’t sleep on the floor!” “I can, and I will, once I change out of these clothes.” He was still slack-jawed as she took her bag into the other room. 

“A woman like that, sleepin’ on the damn floor…” Arthur muttered under his breath. His memories of life had faded, like colors left in the sun, but he still remembered camp conditions. He was fortunate enough to have an elevated cot, but not everyone was. He let Abagail, Tilly, Karen and the rest sleep like this; Why couldn’t Maisie? At least she was inside. 

He walked over to the thermostat, because he understood the house to have electric heat, but then he realized they were still in the dark. There was no electricity. “On the floor?” he asked again. “With no heat?” It was January in New Austin, or Texas, or whatever the hell people were calling it now. It wasn’t exactly cold, but the nights might bite without any heat or real blankets. He stared at the blanket on the floor, then back at Maisie’s closed door. “Miss Maisie, I-“ She interrupted him by opening the door. Her change of clothes didn’t look like much clothing at all, to Arthur. A thin black tank top with matching shorts. He felt his breath catch. Her dark hair hung loose around her face now, and she brushed a lock away from her eyes. “Yes, Mr. Morgan?” 

He stuttered before continuing his thought. “You, uh, you uh, you might get cold in that. The heat isn’t working. It doesn’t look like the electricity is on” Maisie bit her lip. “I’ll just use the blanket on the floor on top of me instead of below me.” She chuckled at Arthur’s concern. “I’ll be quite alright. I knew the power was out. Why do you think I’m going to bed at 6:30?” She flashed Arthur her watch. He shook his head, exasperated. “I suppose I’ll leave you to it then.” He turned to walk through the exterior wall when she stopped him. “And where are you going?” He shrugged. “Night ain’t as pretty with all these electric lights dimmin’ the sky, but it ain’t half bad.” She opened her mouth to protest, when he gave her own response back to her. “I’ll be quite alright.” She nodded and got in her makeshift bed. He nodded back and walked outside. 

He walked to the top of the small cliff that overlooked the barn. The crosses there had rotted away years, and Arthur supposed so had their residents, but he enjoyed coming to this spot nonetheless. “God dammit, John,” he said quietly, sitting down. “What have I gotten myself into now” “Y’know,” came a familiar voice, “If you ever wanna get outta here, you might wanna watch your mouth.” 

Arthur spun to see John Marston, barely visible in the moonlight, glowing like the moon himself. “You’ve been here this whole time?!” Arthur’s joy at seeing his old friend was tainted by the way Arthur had been left lonely all these years. “Hello to you too, ya bastard.” John tossed back. “How are you? Why are you back?” Arthur asked, with a sense of urgency. “I’m fine, Abagail is fine, Jack is fine, Charles is fine, Sadie is fine. Did I miss anyone?” John responded without looking at him, instead looking over the ranch. “Okay, then why are you back?” Arthur asked again. “I felt like you needed some help, old man."

“Has death made you even more of an asshole?” Arthur asked impatiently. John chuckled. “I am your guardian angel, Arthur Morgan! Ain’t you lucky?” He clapped Arthur on the shoulder. The touch was unfamiliar. No one had touched him since he died. His heart nearly broke at the small act of affection. He glanced up at John. “And what is it that I need help with, Marston?” John sat down beside him. “You’re still here, for one thing.” Arthur shook his head. “And here I shall stay, I’m afraid. I ain’t a good man, John. I ain’t good enough to go with you, or bad enough to go with Dutch.” “It ain’t about good or bad, Arthur. You got in as soon as you helped me and my family.” John said quietly. Arthur spun around incredulously. “Then what the hell am I still doing here?” John gave a small, enigmatic smile. “Your girl is getting cold.” Arthur looked down to the house, then back to John, but John had disappeared into the night. Arthur huffed his curses under his breath, then walked back down to the house to check on Maisie. 

He walked in to see her huddled in a ball under the blankets, quietly shivering. He frowned and looked around for something to help her. He found her clothes from earlier folded near her suitcase. He tried to pick them up, but much like earlier, he was unable. He felt his frustration grow with each attempt. He looked over at her again, cold and miserable in her sleep. The hopelessness of being unable to help consumed him. He didn’t help when he was alive and was able, and now he’s doomed to be useless forever. If he could only just-

Finally, the heat of the anger spilled out from him, glowing softly from his body. “If I could only just keep you warm…” he murmured to himself. He traced a golden finger across her forehead, brushing her hair away from her face. She breathed deeply in her sleep, relaxing herself from the grasp of the cold. Being able to help brought him such joy that the light began to shine brighter and warmer. Maisie stretched out on the floor, enjoying the warmth radiating beside her. Arthur settled in beside her, ready to keep her warm through the night.

 

He left as the sun began to soften the darkness around them. He didn’t want to frighten her when she woke up. He wandered into the kitchen to take a better look at what Maisie had brought to Beecher’s Hope. It was honestly a lot of… nothing. If she had planned to farm the land to provide, she didn’t bring much to do that with. No tools, no seeds. The closest thing she had to farm with were the cowboy boots she wore in. It would not do.

Arthur went to the attic to see if anyone had left farm supplies in one of their many hurried exits. Sure enough, an old hand plow was left, along with some unlabeled bags of dried seed. It may not be much, but it was more than she had. He continued to look until he found a small black box. He felt a heart pang as he opened it. “Did Abagail hide this up here for me?” he thought out loud. Mary’s ring, used by John to marry Abagail after Arthur’s death. Arthur shook his head. “Ain’t much use to me now.” He placed it back where he found it. 

He returned downstairs to find Maisie awake. She turned to greet him. “Good morning, Mr. Morgan.” “Miss Maisie,” he nodded back. “I had the strangest dream last night.” Arthur raised an eyebrow at her, and she continued. “I was in the mountains, and I was so very cold, until this golden-glowing buck walked over to me. Suddenly, I wasn’t cold anymore.” 

She turned to continue making her breakfast. She had boiled water on the fireplace and was making coffee. The smell was so familiar, yet alien, to Arthur. “That is a weird dream,” he conceded. “Do you have any idea what might have caused that?” she asked, almost knowingly. He shrugged. “It’s an old house, Miss. You never know what kind of old shit is going to show up at night.” She smiled and took a sip of her coffee. “Thank you, Mr. Morgan.” “What are you thanking me for?” he asked defensively. She grabbed her coffee cup and walked past Arthur in the doorway. As she went, he heard her whisper “If only I could just keep you warm.”


	4. Small Talk Over Coffee

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Maisie asks Arthur about his past.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm kinda disappointed about how short these chapters end up being, but I think I prefer updating with shorter chapters more frequently than longer ones.

Spirit of the West   
Chapter 4: Small Talk Over Coffee 

“If only I could keep you warm” she whispered as she walked past. Arthur blushed. “What was that?” “Nothing, Mr. Morgan,” she called back from the other room. He looked around uncomfortably at the empty kitchen and followed Maisie into the next room. She sat down in the only chair in the house, one left by a previous farmer. He stood in the doorway. He felt so uneasy by their new situation. Loitering around the house with people who were none the wiser? Easy. He’d done it for years. He hadn’t had to socialize with anyone in a century. Social convention had changed, not that he was great at it before. He felt like he was actually haunting her, an unwanted guest in her new home. 

While Arthur constipated over the tensions of the home, Maisie watched him expectantly. He snapped back to reality when she waved in his line of sight. “Mr. Morgan, are you alright?” He laughed at himself and shrugged. “Ain’t nothing wrong, no.” “Should we discuss this peculiar arrangement?” His stomach twisted. “Sure.” 

She folded her legs and placed her coffee cup on her knees. “The house is mine now.” Arthur nodded his understanding. “But I understand that you’ve been here far longer than I will ever be.” He nodded, slower this time, unsure of what Maisie was leading to. “I don’t know you, Mr. Morgan. I don’t know why you’re still on Earth, or why you’re still in this house.” He frowned at her. “If you are to stay here, I think it’s fair that I know who you are.” She swallowed. “Or who you were, rather.” 

Arthur grimaced. He didn’t like to think about who he was the majority of his life. He certainly didn’t expect Maisie to want him to stay after learning his past. He didn’t blame her. If he could remove his past from himself, he would do it without hesitation. His self-loathing grew stronger the longer he glanced at her soft brown eyes, dark and sweet like melted chocolate. His stomach turned with both the guilt of his past, and the guilt he felt for not disclosing himself. He pressed his mouth as small as he could, then slid down against the wall across from her chair. “What do you want to know, Maisie?” 

“When were you born?”  
“1863.”   
“When did you die?”  
“1899.”   
“You weren’t terribly old.”   
“You sound surprised, Miss Maisie?”   
She looked over his face.  
“You just feel so… tired… to me. I feel like you lived longer than you did.”  
Arthur nodded.  
“I had a hard life.”   
“On this farm?”  
“I never visited this ranch in all my life. Friends I left behind built this place with money I left them.”   
“Then what did you do that was so hard?”  
Arthur sighed.   
“I was in a gang, Ms. Walker.”   
She flinched, but he wasn’t sure if it was at the use of her last name or his answer.  
“Did your life of thievery, murder, and other debauchery kill you, then?”   
He gave an empty laugh.  
“Oddly enough, no. I got tuberculosis from a man who borrowed money from the gang. I tried to rough him up to get him to pay, and he coughed blood on me.”   
She pressed her lips tight and nodded. The air hung heavy around them.   
“And should I let the ghost of an ill gangster stay in my new home?”   
Her voice was scarcely audible.  
“I could have, and should have, been a better person. I didn’t really repent for my sins until I realized I was dying. I really tried though. My friends built this house with my money because the gang fell apart, and I helped John and his family to escape the fall out. I came here because I didn’t know where else to go. I couldn’t stay on the mountain I died on. If you won’t let me stay, please help me move on.” 

His voice raised with passion and fear that she might kick him out. His blue eyes searched her face wildly for any indication of pity. She looked at the floor and sucked on her tongue. She met his pleading eyes and frowned. His stomach turned again and again. He nodded. “I understand.” He turned to leave, unsure of where he would go. 

He took a step toward the wall. He froze as the weight of being removed from his home for nearly a century bore down on him. He closed his eyes hard, and took another step. And another. He had nearly stepped through the wall when he heard Maisie say his name quietly. “Arthur… did you keep me warm last night?” He swallowed hard, but didn’t turn around. “You were shivering. I couldn’t just… let you freeze.” “That’s what I thought.” 

He turned to face her, grief lining his face. “Please, Maisie.” She nodded. “I’ll do what I can to help you leave in peace. In the meantime, you can tell me stories about this old house.” She rose slowly from her chair. Arthur gave a relieved smile. “Thank you, ma’am. Whatever you need me to do, I’m your man.” She walked into the kitchen to set her mug down. “I’m not so sure you’ll be much use if you can’t pick anything up.” She gave him a sidelong smile. He chuckled under his breath. “Who else is gonna tell you about the farm equipment in the attic?” 

Maisie spun around. “Farm equipment?” Arthur nodded in confirmation. “It’s old, but it’ll do. It’s more ‘an you have as of late.” She beamed a large smile, full of white teeth. Arthur smiled, in spite of himself. Her joy was contagious. “But before you start tillin’ up dirt, should ya sort out this electricity first?” he asked. Her smile faltered. “Ah, yes… electricity… I should head into town, I suppose” “I’ll be here,” Arthur chuckled.


	5. Daisies for Maisie

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arthur and Maisie adjust to their new living arrangements.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading!

Spirit of the West  
Chapter 5: Daisies for Maisie 

Maisie was gone for an only an hour or two, but it felt like eternity to Arthur. “I’ve been alone for how goddamn long? She’s gone an hour and I’m losin’ my mind!” He paced the length of the house, anxiously awaiting her return. He glanced around the empty house, wishing he could do something to make it feel better for Maisie. “Flowers!” he thought out loud. He stepped through the wall, out onto the ranch. 

There was not much growing in January. He walked the perimeter of the ranch, the same parcel of land that still belonged to it, anyway, and found nothing. In his frustration, he headed up to the graves on the cliffs. Growing out of John’s was a large clump of daisies. Arthur rolled his eyes, knowing damn well they weren’t there last night. “Well… thanks, I guess…” He mumbled to the grave. 

He touched his hand to the flowers, but they went through him. He tried to remember how he had interacted with things before. He either had to be so angry he forced it, or did so without thinking. He frowned, realizing his lack of process wasn’t helpful for repetition. He closed his eyes and tried to focus on grabbing the flowers. “The flowers… the flowers… pick up… the flowers…” he growled. He felt the stems in his fingers, and he gave them a tug. They came away easily into his hand. He suspects this to be more of John’s help, but he could gripe about that later. 

He was walking back to the house when Maisie’s car pulled in. He tried to walk through the wall again, but didn’t want to damage the flowers. He approached the back door, focused his energy, and turned the knob enough to open it. Maisie was already inside when he entered.

“We’re using doors now, hmm?” She mused, setting down a shopping bag. “I’m learnin’ how to use my hands again. Maybe I won’t be so useless after all.” He looked down at the daisies sheepishly. “I, uh, went out for these.” He lifted the daisies, still concentrating on holding them in his large hands. Maisie looked at the embarrassment on his face first, then her eyes found the flowers. Her face lit up, and she hurried over to take them from Arthur. “Oh, Mr. Morgan! Daisies for Maisie. How thoughtful!” She held the flowers and Arthur’s hands in hers for a moment and smiled. He met her eyes for a moment, then turned away. “You needed somethin’ other ‘an dust in here, anyway.” She blinked, breaking the moment. “Yes… thank you.” She washed her coffee mug and placed the flowers in it in some water. 

“Electricity won’t be on for another day or two,” Maisie told him, facing the sink. “Is there at least a blanket in that grocery bag, then?” She shrugged. “I’ll live.” Arthur shook his head. “Candles?” Maisie walked over to the bag and pulled out a couple of fat column candles. “That won’t do much to keep you warm.” A half-smile crept up her face. “Hopefully that buck comes to me again tonight.” For someone who didn’t have a blood flow, Maisie sure made Arthur blush, red and hot.

Arthur drifted into the other room while Maisie made herself some dinner. She had evidently picked up a small table and put it together. When she had finished her meal, she called for him. “Mr. Morgan, dinner is ready!” He raised an eyebrow, but walked into the kitchen anyway. “Miss Maisie, you do understand that I can’t eat anythin’, right?” She seemed to be taken aback by his comment. “Is your schedule of wandering the ranch for eternity too busy to sit with me while I eat?” He grinned at her wit. “I suppose I can fit you in.” She sat at the table with a bowl of hot soup, and gestured to the chair in front of her. 

Arthur smiled uncomfortably, unsure if he could use a chair. He focused his energy on the wood, and lowered himself on it. It held, for the time being, and he raised his eyebrows at Maisie. “See, Miss Maisie, I’m already getting’ better!” She giggled at him. “Impressive, sir. Truly.” She took another sip of soup. He looked around, quite unsure what to do but stare at her. The quiet began to weigh heavier around them. Arthur just tried to focus on staying in the chair. 

“BRRRIIIIIINNGGGGGGGGG!”

The sound startled Arthur so quickly that he immediately fell to the floor. He reached for his side arm, but remember he couldn’t carry it. He looked around, panicked, until he realized that the source of the sound was only the telephone. His fear was replaced by annoyance. Maisie was on the floor too, crying laughing at Arthur. He shot her a look as she ran over to answer it. 

“The cable guy will be out tomorrow to put in TV and internet.” she called as she returned to the kitchen. Arthur furrowed his brow in confusion. Maisie read his expression. “Oh, television is-“ “Yes, yes, I’ve seen a television. People have had them here before. But what’s the internet?” Maisie let out a quick “ha!” as she sat back down. “It’s basically radio frequencies that certain devices can use to send information to each other.” He narrowed his eyes. “That don’t make no damn sense.” Maisie laughed again. “I’ll show it to you once it gets set up.” 

Night settled in once again, and darkness swallowed the cabin. Maisie lit her candles and set them around the room. She looked down at them lovingly. “This soft light is so nice… almost romantic.” Arthur scoffed. “Y’aint never had to live by candlelight.” She changed into her new pajamas, a warmer set this time, and got into her nest of blankets on the floor. He leaned against the wall near her. “I ordered a mattress today,” she said, laying on her side facing away from Arthur. He grunted in acknowledgement. “’Bout time you stopped sleepin’ on the floor.”   
“Goodnight, Mr. Morgan.” “I have a first name, Miss Maisie.” “Yeah, I hear ya. Goodnight.” He smiled in the dark. “Goodnight.” 

Arthur sat in the quiet. The only sound was Maisie breathing, until he heard the wind pick up outside, and he stood up to check the weather. He saw snow swirling and hitting the glass. He shook his head in frustration. “We never get snow, and of course, it has to be when she doesn’t have heat.” 

Maisie stirred at his voice. “How do I turn you on?” she asked sleepily. He couldn’t hold back his surprise. “’Cuse me?” She stuck her hand out blindly, slapping the floor, as if she were reaching for an alarm clock. “How do I activate the heater thing you do?” Relief flooded him as she clarified her meaning. “Well, uh, hold on just a moment.” He sat down beside her and focused. “Let me help,” he thought to himself. “Let me keep her warm.” A soft glow began to radiate around him. He smiled down at her. 

She sat up and frowned. “I’m still cold.” His light began to falter as he doubted himself. “Will you come closer, Arthur?” His mind raced as he considered his options. “Well… I suppose…” He inched closer and laid down on the bare floor. “Is this better?” She didn’t answer, but raised her blanket. “You’ll be more efficient if you’re under the blanket.” He hesitated. “Maisie, I…” She sat up to face him. “C’mon, Arthur. We’re all adults here.” He nodded slowly, then slid under the blanket. 

He noticed that since he had been able to use his hands, he was more cognizant of his senses. For instance, he was acutely aware that her hair smelled like flowers, as it draped along the pillow beside his face. He wasn’t sure what kind of flower, but he supposed he had all night to decide. Maisie went back to sleep almost immediately. Arthur couldn’t have slept if he wanted to. It was quite a lot for an old soul, to go from no social contact to sleeping in the same bed as a beautiful woman. 

She rolled over and placed her head on his chest. Arthur began to glow even brighter, so unused to the affection. The light didn’t seem to bother her, though, and they passed much of the night in some kind of contact. 

The light grew grey and slow that morning, the snow storm blocking most of the sunlight. The morning was peaceful and quiet, until a dull roar announced itself through the house. Arthur recognized it as the furnace. Maisie woke up at the new noise to find herself wrapped around Arthur. She looked startled at first, but didn’t move. He delicately removed her arm, and stood up. “Well, Maisie, looks like the electricity is back on.” He dusted himself off and walked out the of the room. “Does that mean I have to pay for heat now?” she called after him. He poked his head back in the doorway.  
“Never, Miss Maisie.”


	6. It's Electric

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The cable guy comes by and brings a new friend.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I appreciate you reading!! Thank you so much! 
> 
> ****** CONTENT WARNING******
> 
> **** POTENTIAL SEXUAL ASSAULT******
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
> The cable guy is creepy. Maisie is safe, and nothing happens, but there's a moment where it's unclear.

Spirit of the West   
Chapter 6 

Maisie ran behind Arthur as he left the room. He quickly stepped out of her way as she flew into the kitchen. Her warm pajamas were far less scandalous, just grey matching sweats, and her colorful socks didn’t match. Her dark hair was dented on her left side, the side that was pressed against him all night. Arthur couldn’t help but laugh at her enthusiasm. 

“Electricity!” she exclaimed. “Modernity! Scientifically-explained heating!” She threw her arms open wide and her head back and spun, cackling all the way. Arthur stared at her in wonder, marveling at her sense of joy and excitement. He damn near melted when she stopped turning and looked at him with that grin. “Dimples,” he thought. “Lord almighty, she has dimples.” He gave her a small, stupid smile and sighed. She held his gaze for a moment, and Arthur thought that the world had stopped spinning. She broke away to glanced at her electric coffee pot, then her enthusiasm bubbled over again. “Real coffee!!” 

She danced over to the counter, singing “coffee, coffee, coffEE! coffee, coffee, coffEE!” Arthur laughed out loud. “You’d never know y’aint had too much coffee already!” She popped her hip as she turned to smile at him over her shoulder. “It’s amazing what a good night’s sleep can do for a girl.” She patted her hair and her smile dimmed. “Or her hair.” 

Arthur’s mind raced with all of the compliments he could say right now, but none seemed to stick. Should he tell her that nothing is more beautiful than her zeal for life? That he could spend another hundred years with her head on his chest? “Nah, you like fine,” was all that came out. She raised an eyebrow at him. “Were you always a man of such exquisite compliments, Mr. Morgan?” His mind went blank. “I would give anythin’ to be able to crawl back in my grave right now…” he thought to himself. “No, Miss Maisie, I saved them especially for you.”

She chuckled as she turned around to make the coffee. “If you have over a hundred years of compliments waiting for me, then I expect them to be good and plentiful.” He laughed and leaned against the doorway. “Now, I cain’t go givin’ away all my secrets. That’d spoil the fun.” 

She poured herself a cup. “Can I have one? One teeny tiny lil secret?” He pondered for a moment. “I haven’t been able to use my senses much. Since I’ve been learnin’ to use my hands again, they’ve sorta… come back, in a way. I spent all night tryin’ to figure out how your hair smelled like flowers, and what flower it was.” He watched the doorway as he spoke. Maisie took a sip of her coffee. “Lavender,” she said quietly. “My shampoo smells like lavender.” Arthur racked his brain for some fact on lavender. He used to keep a journal full of that kinda information. “Lavender… ain’t that supposed to… calm ya down?” She nodded. “I shoulda known. That was the most relaxed I’ve been since God knows when.” She watched the steam rise out of her cup, smiling behind it. Arthur broke the tension first. “Ha! Two for the price of one, Miss Maisie. Ain't nothin’ if not generous.” She rolled her eyes and set down her now empty cup. “I need to shower before the cable guy shows up.” 

 

Maisie shut the bathroom door behind her, and Arthur decided to take a walk in the snow. The storm had long passed, and left behind was a soft blanket of white over the ranch. It twinkled in the defused sunlight. He heard it crunch underfoot, and was surprised to see a trail of footprints behind him. He shrugged and walked up the ridge to the graves. 

“John?” he called out into the frosty air. “John, thank you for the flowers, but I have no idea what in the hell I’m doin’ now.” He kicked at the snow that had settled on his boot. “Y’ain’t much help either,” he muttered to the silent grave. 

Time spent away from Maisie seemed to drag on and on. Existence was easier with no concept of time, he thought, or someone to want to spend time with. He passed as much time as he could on the ridge until he saw a white van pull up to the house. “I suppose this must be the guy with the intra-ma-net” He made his way back to the house. 

The cable guy stepped out of the van with an expression of concern. He paced hurriedly to the door and knocked. Maisie opened the door, wearing grey leggings and a cream cable-knit sweater. She invited him inside. Arthur stepped through the wall in the sitting room. 

“Ms. Walker,” he said anxiously. “I hate to bother you with this, but I found this cat on the side of the road. She’s really thin and the weather is awful.” Maisie’s face scrunched in concern. “Go get her, then.” The man ran back outside and returned with a small blonde cat. 

Maisie poured a bowl of milk and lowered it down for her. “Hi baby,” she cooed. “You doin’ okay?” The cat hummed a meow into her bowl. Maisie laughed. “She’s a thirsty thing!” The cable guy smiled appreciatively. “Thank you, Ms. Walker. I just felt so bad for her. Besides, it might not be so bad to have some company, with you living here alone.” She tilted her head. “But I’m not…” she started. “Ah yes, alone. I live here… alone.” 

Arthur came into the room, and the little cat stopped drinking immediately. Maisie saw her look up at Arthur. He looked down, seeming confused. The cat sat directly in front of Arthur’s feet and meowed. The cable guy looked at Maisie, then back at the empty space Arthur was inhabiting. “Well, ain’t that weird?” he asked slowly. “This house is very old,” Maisie placated. “There’s no telling what kind of spirits are hanging out in here.” He nodded, seemingly unconvinced, and left to get his supplies to put in cable and internet. 

Arthur stared down at the cat, who was still mewing at his feet. “A cat, Maisie?” She laughed. “You’re not afraid of a little kitty, are you?” He pursed his lips in annoyance. “It ain’t like that… just ain’t never had one.” Maisie leaded down to pet her. “She’s a sweetie pie!” He tilted his chin down and gave her a hard look. 

The cable guy returned before Arthur could complain again. He kneeled on the floor and got to work. “What’s a beautiful woman like you doing out here by yourself?” he called to Maisie. She rolled her eyes and looked over to Arthur. He shrugged, amused by her reaction. “I live here.” she said flatly. “Well I know that, Ms. Walker,” he laughed. “But by yourself? Surely, you’ve got to have someone missin’ you.” She crossed her arms. “Sure, and if I had internet, I could shoot them an email. So, if you please,” she gestured back to his work. He swallowed and turned back to it. 

All the while, Maisie’s new pet was screaming at Arthur. He tried to shush her, but it only seemed to make her louder. “Little thing, you have got tuh hush!” She mewed again. “What do you Want?” He asked, growing agitated. She mewed, louder and longer this time. He looked around. Maisie had her back to him, but he could sense her amusement at the cat’s attachment to Arthur. He kneeled down, and the cat rubbed all over his knees. He loved animals, but had never met a cat that wanted this much to do with anyone. He raised a hand, and the cat stuck her back up to meet it. She purred like a motor under his touch. He put both hands on her now, and she rubbed and rolled happily. 

“What is that cat talkin’ to?” the cable guy asked. Maisie shrugged. “Who cares? She seems happy enough.” He grunted and turned back around. Maisie watched as Arthur’s reserve melted around the cat. She smiled to herself. By the time the man had finished, Arthur was laying on the floor, running his hands along the floor for the cat to chase. 

The repairman stood up and dusted himself off. “’At’ll do it, then Ms. Walker.” She nodded. “Thank you, sir.” He gathered his tools and headed for the door. “Now, about that email address…” he started, “You think I could get it?” “Thank you, sir,” she opened the door and motioned for him to walk through it. He moved closer, putting her between him and the wall. Arthur took note of this, and rose to his feet. “C’mon, Ms. Walker. You ain’t got friends in town,” he put his free hand on the wall beside her head. “Someone has to keep that pussy company.” 

Arthur quickly closed the space between them. “That’s enough,” he growled. Maisie glared at him. “How very punny,” she said, dryly. The man didn’t seem to hear Arthur, and that only angered him further. “I Said,” he bellowed. “That’s ENOUGH!” He shoved him away from her. He flew back and hit the other side of the entryway, dropping his tools everywhere. His face went white in terror. “Wh-wh-wh-what the hell was that?” he screamed. Maisie stayed deadpan. “Your invitation out,” she opened the door again. He reached down and grabbed what he could, then flew out the door. 

Maisie slumped back against the wall and sighed. “Well, let’s get the new TV set up.” Arthur’s head spun with anger and concern. “Maisie, I-“ he sputtered out. She held up her hand to stop his protests. “Ain’t the first time, won’t be the last.” He locked his jaw and stared at the floor. “Not while I’m around, goddammit.” he mumbled under his breath. She smiled sadly, sighed, and reached up to pat Arthur’s face. “Oh, Mr. Morgan,” she said as she walked into the kitchen. He lingered for a moment longer, then followed her.

The cat was stretched across the floor, but lifted her head when they entered. “At least something good came out of his visit, huh?” She reached down to stroke her white belly. “That,” Arthur laughed. “is a woman who knows what she wants.” “What should we name her?” Maisie looked up at Arthur through her thick lashes. “I was thinking… Sadie.” she said, pensively. 

Arthur coughed at the mention of his old friend. “Any particular reason?” “She’s got spunk… and something about the house told me about a Sadie with spunk.” Arthur felt emotion rise in his chest, threatening to spill out of his eyes. “Sadie would be a fine name.” She softened at his display of near-emotion.   
“Care to tell me who Sadie was?”   
He shook his head. “Maybe later… Maybe later.”


	7. Puppy Dog Eyes and Regrets

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Maisie's Hulu recommendations spark a heart-to-heart between our two emotionally constipated roommates.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I used a lot of Pride and Prejudice references in this chapter, because I felt like Mr. Darcy will be a useful character for Arthur's development. I tried to explain all of the important references, but if something doesn't make sense, please ask! Thank you again for reading!

Spirit of the West  
Chapter 7: Puppy Dog Eyes and Regrets 

 

“Maybe later… Maybe later.” Arthur said with a frown. Maisie nodded compassionately and walked into the sitting room. She fumbled around in boxes, and pulled out a small screen. Arthur looked at it curiously. “Where’s the rest of it?” She chuckled. “Technology has improved since your last roommates left. They’re pretty flat now.” He nodded approvingly. “I kinda missed havin’ a TV. I would watch it all the time before they left.” Her amusement shone through her brown eyes. “Oh yeah?” She plugged the TV in. “What did you watch?” He shrugged. “Gunsmoke… Walker, Texas Ranger…” She laughed out loud. “The cowboy? Watching westerns?” He laughed with her, conceding the ridiculousness of it. “Yeah, yeah, I hear ya.”

Sadie mewed behind them. Arthur nuzzled her ear. “Y’know, most animals haven’t been too fond of me since I passed.” Maisie lifted the empty TV box. “Well, never fear, this one loves you.” Quiet settled in around them once again. The tension of the cable guy’s visit lingered between them. 

“Maisie…” he started. She looked up at him expectantly. “I’m… sorry I lost my temper” She blinked, like this wasn’t she was expecting to hear. “Oh…” she said quietly. “I… probably… could have handled it.” “I know that. You’re alone, but you’re not helpless. I reacted quickly because it… scared… me.” He mumbled, staring at the floor. Sadie rubbed on his legs. Maisie nodded, and looked up at him. 

“I’m not alone, Mr. Morgan, and I appreciate your help.” She smiled again, and Arthur thought his heart might burst. In that brief moment, the idea of anyone hurting Maisie was all-consuming and painful. He was much less doubtful of her ability to protect herself than he was doubtful that he could handle it himself. She was so new, yet still so dear. Words of endearment stuck in his throat as he searched for a way to tell her this. 

Her brown eyes widened, seemingly aware of the words Arthur couldn’t spit out. Her  
open expression pled with him to speak, but he could not. Instead, he merely grunted and pet the cat. Maisie looked down, disappointed. 

“Ready to learn about the World Wide Web?” she asked, placing her hands on her thighs. “Sure, okay.” He came closer to the TV. She turned it on with the remote, and it chimed as it powered on. “Well, they’re musical now?” he asked, impressed. She grinned and nodded. She navigated some menus and put in a password. “Okay, so now we’re connected to the internet!” She announced. “…just like that?” he asked quietly. “Just like that,” she confirmed. 

She opened another menu and clicked on a green square. Arthur squinted as he read it. “Hulu? What the hell is a Hulu?” She laughed at his confusion. “It’s a streaming service. You can watch your shows no matter what time of day.” His confusion worsened, and his brow furrowed in thought. She opened another menu, typed in “westerns” and put on a movie. 

Arthur’s eyes went wide. “That’s somethin’, alright!” he exclaimed. “That is so fuckin’… wow.” She smiled at him. “So you like it?” she asked quietly, turning to face it. “Do I like it? Miss Maisie!” His face lit up with excitement. “I- I…” he stuttered, but reined in his excitement. “I like it very much. Thank you.” She smiled as he composed himself. “I’m glad. I’m going to run to the store. You finish your movie and I’ll be back soon.” 

She used his shoulder to raise out of her chair. At some point, he hoped, he would stop reacting to even her smallest touch, This, however, was not that point, and her touch made him feel alive, if only for a moment. 

She put on her coat and left, leaving Arthur to placidly stare at the screen. Gunfire would pop, and actors would fall over, but he knew damn well that wasn’t how a body moved when it had been shot. He chuckled to myself about the inaccuracies, but kept watching, even as the movie ended and something else started to play. 

Sadie curled up beside his chair. Maisie still didn’t have a couch, so he was sitting in one of the dining chairs. A soft piano soundtrack started, and golden fabric appeared on the screen. “PRIDE AND PREJUDICE” announced the title card. Arthur looked down at Sadie. “What in the hell has Maisie made me watch?” The opening credits stopped, and two men riding horses came across the screen. Arthur had a pang for his trusty steed, and missed the freedom that riding afforded him. They spoke to each other in British accents, and had a funny way of arranging their words. “Take a look at these rich pricks, Sadie,” Arthur said gesturing to the screen. Sadie did not take notice, and continued sleeping. 

The film kept rolling, and soon Arthur met the Bennet sisters, the Bingleys, and Mr. Darcy. He was skeptical at first, but found their “country manners” pleasant, and the drama of it all entertaining enough. 

Maisie walked through the door, carrying some grocery bags, and called back to Arthur. “Is that movie still playing?” “Nah, we’ve moved on to… Sadie, what is this called? Pride and…?” Maisie looked up in alarm. “Why are you watching Pride and Prejudice?” He shrugged. “It came on after the movie.” 

She hurried in and turned off the movie. The Hulu menu glowed behind her. “Hey now,” Arthur exclaimed. “Ya cain’t just come in here and turn off a man’s Pride and Prejudice!” She looked at him defensively. “I’m sorry that played instead of something you’re more interested in.” She spoke through her tightly pressed mouth. “But I am interested! How am I supposed to know what the dark-headed dick hole does next if ya turn it off?” She raised an eyebrow. “Did you just call Mr. Darcy a dark-headed dick hole?” He nodded emphatically. She looked, away, processing. “Can you at least wait to watch it with me?” He shrugged and agreed. 

She put away her groceries, and dragged two colorful sacks into the sitting room. Arthur eyed her cautiously. “And what might those be?” She plopped them on the floor. “Bean bags! They’re more comfortable than those chairs, I can assure you.” She fluffed one up and fell into it. He was unconvinced, despite her assurance. She hit play on Pride and Prejudice again. Colin Firth appeared on-screen. Maisie sighed. Arthur craned his neck around to see her face. “You mean to tell me you like the dark-headed dick hole?” She glared at him, but her amusement was clear. “Would you please just watch?” He nodded and leaned back in his chair. Sadie had moved to the empty bean bag. It seemed to suit her well. 

Maisie kept wriggling around on the floor, clearly uncomfortable. She sat up and pursed her lips. She glanced up at Arthur. “Mr. Morgan, can I… lean against your legs or something?” He nodded and slid his knee her way. He still had to focus quite a bit to do things like sit in a chair, but it was getting easier. She pressed against him, her dark ponytail draped across his knee. He fought the urge to twirl it through his fingers. 

Evidently, the dark-headed dick hole Darcy had prevented Elizabeth Bennet’s sister from marrying Mr. Bingley. Arthur felt yet another heart pang for his former life, for the mother of his son, for Mary Gillis. He knew what that kind of interference felt like, and he was not enthused to experience it second-hand. His mood plummeted, and he felt his willingness to continue watching fade. Maisie seemed to sense this.

She craned her head back, laying the back of it atop Arthur’s leg, and met his eyes. “Mr. Morgan, are you doing okay?” “Fine,” he replied, tersely. She leaned forward again and paused the movie. “Can now be time for one of those stories you promised me?” He frowned, ready to tell her no, and never think of Mary in her presence again. But those eyes, those big brown eyes, with their warmth and empathy, pleading with him to open up. The irony of not being seen for years, only to be found by eyes that saw right through his coldness was not lost on him. 

He told her about Isaac and Mary, and the way his lifestyle cost him both of them in their own ways. He told her about Mary’s family, and the way she kept asking him to help those who had taken something so dear from him. He rambled on for what felt like forever, and Maisie simply sat there, legs crossed, staring up at him. He finished his story by saying “I saw myself in poor Jane, although she was for more deservin’ than I ever was.” 

“Have you ever tried to find her?” Maisie asked quietly. “Find who?” “Mary. You can roam wherever you feel like. Have you looked for Mary?” Arthur stared at the floor. “She made her peace with me. Who was I to disturb her again?” Maisie nodded, clasped her hands, and placed them over his knee, using it as leverage to stand up. “If anyone ever looked at me the way you looked when you talked about her, I would run away with them in a heartbeat.” She gave him a sad smile and walked away. 

Hope filled his empty chest as she left, but was quickly squashed by his own self-doubt. “There’s more to it than that. You should know that.” he called after her. “Ed is a violent man. I was a violent man. You left Ed. You not only left him, you moved into some run-down ranch to get away from him. There’s more to it than puppy dog eyes and regret, Miss Maisie.”   
She walked back in with a glass of pink liquid in one hand and a bottle in the other. Arthur deduced it to be wine. “Do you think Ed regrets hitting on me?” she asked pointedly. “Would Ed try to change a lifestyle he was already so entrenched in just to be with me? You did what you had to survive. He never loved me. Ed’s only regret was to lose my daddy’s fortune. So please, Mr. Morgan,” she took a hard swallow of her wine. “Do not tell me what it is I should and should not know about love and violence. I saw the way your temper flared at the cable guy, but I still don’t fear for my own safety. Ed never cared enough to emotionally react, unless it questioned his manhood, or whatever the hell it was.” Her voice was raised at this point, but her voice softened as her thoughts shifted. “I hope Mary understood the heart she had been given, even if she could not accept it.” 

Arthur blinked then met her eyes. “Okay then, Miss Maisie,” he said, nodding. “Can I ask one question?” She took another swallow of wine and agreed. “Does Jane get to marry Bingley?” Her warmth began to return. “I guess you gotta watch it, don’t you?” 

“You didn’t seem too keen on me watching it before. Why was that?” She looked down embarrassedly. “Ed always made fun of their accents, and made fun of me for enjoying it. I didn’t want my big, tough cowboy roommate having any dirt on me, the hopeless romantic with a penchant for 1990s Colin Firth.” She sat back down in her bean bag and leaned against his leg. “There’s nothing wrong with wanting to see and feel love, Miss Maisie,” he said quietly, the gruffness of his voice nearly hiding the syllables all together. She took a sip of wine without turning around and pressed play again. “I could tell you the same thing, Mr. Morgan.”


	8. Pillow Talk

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arthur and Maisie discuss her future during a bout of insomnia.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! Is there any random event you’d like to see our pair do? Any modern inventions you think Arthur might particularly enjoy? Let me know!

Chapter 8

The pair sat down to finish Pride and Prejudice as the tension of their emotional discussion lingered in the room. Sadie narrowed her eyes at them as she sat up and left the room. 

Darcy’s first proposal scene played, much to Arthur’s surprise. “What an ass,” he scoffed. Maisie turned to slap his knee in chastisement. “That’s some shit I would do,” he laughed. “Tell a woman I love her, despite hatin’ everythin’ about her, or without givin’ any prior indication that I did not, in fact, hate her.” 

Maisie stood up, shaking her head in disappointment. “That’s enough Darcy for one night, I think.” “Maisie, I am only playin’, and you know it.” She glared at him, but a smile played at her lips. “Bedtime,” She said, leaving to change. 

Arthur looked down at Sadie, who was rubbing along his shins. “Bedtime, kitty cat.” Maisie walked back in, wearing her original black pajama set. Arthur raised his eyebrows in surprise. “The heat is on, remember? No need to sleep in sweat pants.” He looked at the thermostat with frustration. “No need for me, either, I suppose,” Arthur mumbled. Maisie crawled into her blanket nest. 

“Are y’all coming?” Arthur’s eyes widened. “Y’all?” She fluffed her pillow. “Thought Sadie might want to join us.” He bit his lip. “I...uh... didn’t... wanna assume anythin’...” She curled up on her left side. “Are you coming or not, Mr. Morgan?” He stood up and shuffled over to her bed. “I’m a dead man, but I ain’t a stupid one, Miss Maisie.”

She chuckled and raised the blanket for him. He laid on his back beside her. “G’night, Miss Maisie.” “Goodnight, Mr. Morgan.”  
The silence of the night fell around them, save for Sadie’s motorboat purr as Arthur pet her. 

Arthur had already zoned out as much as he could, being unable to sleep and all, when Maisie rolled over to him. “I can’t sleep,” she whispered. He opened one eye. “Are you cold?” He prepared to start glowing, when she said no. “Just lonely, I’m afraid.” He raised his arm in invitation for her to lay on his chest. She took it, nuzzling her face into his shirt. 

He held her there, careful not to appear too bothered by her touch. He was grateful that he didn’t have a heartbeat, or her ear would have been right over it, able to hear the tension in his chest. 

“I still can’t sleep,” she said finally. “D’ya wanna... I dunno, turn back on the TV or somethin’?” She shook her head without lifting it. He grunted, out of solutions. “Uh... I can tell you a story, I guess... if y’want...” He felt her smile, so he started.

“Once upon a time, there was a brave woman named Mrs. Adler. She was married to a Mr. Jake Adler, and they had a ranch in the mountains. Until one night, a gang of thieves broke in and killed Jake, so they could use the house as shelter to wait out the snow storm. A different gang of thieves was also lookin’ for shelter that night and approached the house. The gang inside recognized the gang outside, and they weren’t friendly with each other, so the gang outside killed the gang inside. They found Mrs. Adler and offered to take her to safety. She decided to stay with them to get revenge on the gang that killed her husband. And in her time with the gang, she was a very useful member, even staging a prison break when the leader wouldn’t rescue one of their own from the gallows. She comforted a sick old man in his last days, and helped to take down the rat that destroyed her gang. This, Miss Maisie, is the story of Sadie Adler.” 

At the mention of her name, the cat crawled closer to their faces. Maisie laughed and scratched at her ear. “Look at me, a wanna-be law student living with the ghost of an outlaw, and a cat named for one.” Arthur reached up to pet Sadie too, the whole scene becoming immediately more intimate than he had anticipated. “Law school, eh?” He asked, looking down at the top of her head. She nodded. “I would quite like to go to Yale, but I’m afraid I missed my shot.” Arthur tried to ask more, but he discovered how little he knew about education now. “So, uh, how does one go to law school these days?” 

“Well,” Maisie said without looking up. “You get your bachelor’s degree first. That’s a four year degree. Mine is in sociology. Then you go to law school for another three years, but you gotta pass the Bar exam to practice law.” Arthur shook his head. “That sure is a lot of shit, just to professionally talk out of your ass. Now, what is sociology?” 

Arthur felt her tense under his arm. “It’s the study of society. I wanted to use that knowledge to go to law school to prevent violence against women and children.” Her voice was dripping with excitement. Arthur could tell she really enjoyed what she studied. “You would have been a fine lawyer, Maisie,” he said, holding her a little tighter. “And you still can. I think you’ll find farm life ain’t nearly as eventful as the courtroom, eventually.” 

 

“At this moment, my life is nothing as it has ever been,” she said quietly. “Oh really?” He asked playfully. “You ain’t never had ghostly sleepovers in college?” She scoffed at his joke, but wrapped tighter around him, letting her thigh rest across his knee. “If only you were as funny as you were dead, Mr. Morgan.” 

He frowned. “Why won’t you call me Arthur, Maisie?” She tensed again, withdrawing from his embrace. “I don’t want to get attached, Arthur. I promised to help you move on, and I plan to keep that promise.” He rolled his eyes. “And you think spending the night this way,” he gestured to their overlapped bodies. “Won’t caused you to get attached?” 

She sat up. Her brown eyes were lost in the darkness but Arthur felt her scowl. “Do you not understand how weird this situation is? How fucking bonkers I would sound to anyone but Sadie if I told them I lived with the ghost of a cowboy?” 

 

Her voice remained level, which almost intimidated him worse than if she had screamed in his face. “Weirder still, if I had to turn down someone for a date because I was already taken... by a god damn ghost.” Arthur swallowed, the implication that she could fall in love with him sending his mind racing. 

“I suppose I’ll leave you to it, then, Ms. Walker,” he said, tossing the blanket off of him. It landed on Sadie, who poked her head out with annoyance. He saw her anger melt from her silhouette. “Arthur, please, I... this isn’t what I meant...” she said, her voice now as soft as her satin pajamas. 

“Then what DID you mean, Maisie?” He asked, his voice booming where hers was near silent. She gave no response. “That’s what I thought.” He turned toward the exterior wall. “Goodnight.” He walked through it into the cold, January night.


	9. Long Enough

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arthur runs from the ranch after a fight with Maisie.
> 
>  
> 
> "Pushin' people away ain't love, Morgan!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have to admit that I was grumpy when I wrote the end of the last chapter, and my mood spilled through to Arthur xD Hopefully this chapter makes up for it! Much love!

Spirit of the West   
Chapter 9 

 

Arthur looked out into the night. Clouds obscured the moon, leaving the world dark and shadowless. He broke his own heart as he walked up the ridge, further and further away from Maisie. The snow had melted and the ground thawed, leaving a muddy mess across the ranch. He kicked at a clump of sod. He realized that his fists and jaw were clenched, and he consciously relaxed them. The anger that had masked his hurt fell away, leaving Arthur to feel to brunt of his heartache. He took a ragged breath as he watched the house from above. 

“I always wondered why you never married,” John’s sarcasm cut through the dark. “You were always so… charismatic.” Arthur squeezed his eyes tightly together. “Ain’t you nothin’ better to do, Marston?” John came to stand beside him, staring out over the ranch. “I told you I was here to help you, so no… nothin’ better at all.” Arthur scoffed and took a step away. “This ain’t exactly helpin’.” John’s tone shifted. “What did you want to happen, Morgan? Do you want her to fall in love with you? Or do you want her to prove right that you are unworthy of love?” 

Arthur spun around to face him. “What did you say?” he growled. “You know what I said! You’ve already fallen in love with her. To avoid doin’ anythin’ about it, you stormed out on her. Pushin’ people away ain’t love, Morgan!” Arthur said nothing, but clenched his jaw. “She could have sworn her undyin’ love and affection right there, and I ain’t convinced you wouldn’t have reacted this same way.” Arthur’s anger boiled over again, and he took a swing at John.

John’s face was untouched by Arthur’s fist, which only frustrated him more. “Arthur, stop,” John said dryly. Arthur continued to swing. John nodded, still unphased by the attack. “When you’re ready to talk about this like the grown man you are, come find me.” John disappeared into the night. 

Arthur breathed heavily, his anger and hurt overwhelming him. He wanted, more than anything, to walk back to the house and get in bed with Maisie and Sadie. Was John right? “Pushin’ people away ain’t love, Morgan” repeated in his head, over and over, until he thought he might scream. He walked along the road to Broken Tree. 

He plopped down at the base of the tree, the old rock fences crumbled into the dirt by time. His frustration at Maisie, at John, at his situation sat in the back of his throat. Why was he still here? Why couldn’t he leave? Why was Maisie here? And why did John seem to know? 

He sat there until the sun rose over the Grizzlies in the distance. “Maybe Maisie is right,” he grumbled. “This is too much… too difficult. She could be my entire world, but I’d only be able to be a small piece of hers. I cain’t blame her for wanting more than… this… more than me.” He realized in that moment that his stay at Beecher’s Hope was over. “Maybe this is what John meant to help me move on. I cain’t stay here now.” He walked back down to the ranch to tell Maisie goodbye. 

 

He walked into the house to find Sadie sleeping alone on a bean bag. He looked over the house, but found Maisie gone. He saw a note on the kitchen table: 

“Arthur,  
I went to go get some things. I hope you’re home before I am.  
-m” 

His heart skipped. She called him Arthur. She hoped he came back, that he came home. Home to her. His heart broke all over again as he remembered what he had come here to do. Just as he set the note down, the door behind him opened. He spun around to see a pile of brown paper bags, presumably held by Maisie. “Is… is that all, Maisie? Do you need help?” 

She screamed and tossed the bags in the air. She put her hand on her chest, steadying herself. “Arthur! I didn’t know you came back! You just scared the ever-loving SHIT out of me.” Arthur immediately started to help her gather the groceries. They both reached for a can of peaches, and made eye contact. She smiled. He frowned. Her brow furrowed as she realized the fight wasn’t quite over. 

“I’m not back to stay, Ms. Walker,” he said, standing. “But-“ she started to protest. He raised his hand to silence her. “Everythin’ you said last night was true. We’re from two… different worlds. We’re in two different worlds. As much as I’d love to, I cain’t give ya the world when the world don’t even recognize me. This is no good, and I’m gonna leave on my own terms.” Her face was lined with concern and her jaw went slack. He stared at her, with her sleek dark hair on her shoulders, her chocolate eyes searching his face. Emotion filled the hollow of his chest as the words stuck to his tongue. He blinked slow and swallowed. “I’m afraid love you,” he said quietly. “And that is precisely why I cannot stay.” 

Maisie tried to speak again, but Arthur kept his hand up. “Maisie, please, it’s best I go.” She stuttered, and he started to walk away. “You wait right there, Arthur Morgan!” she bellowed. He froze in his tracks, but turn to face her. “Do you think I’m happy you’re dead?” She asked firmly. He raised an eyebrow at her. “Do you think I’m thrilled that the happiest I’ve ever been has been with a man 156 years my senior? Do you think I wake up in the morning thinking about how happy I am that I will never be able to bring you to a party with my friends, or even just out in public?” Her voice grew quiet. “Do you think it makes me love you any less?” 

Arthur stared at her blankly, unsure of how to proceed. Maisie took a step towards him. “You apologized for protecting me earlier, so stop trying to protect me now. I realized when you left last night that it was you that brought me to this house, not the history or the silo. I bought it without seeing the place first, and I never understood why, but now I do. Without you, this place is nothing but beams and earth. I came for you.” She put her hands on his chest. “I would rather farm this old land with you than be anywhere else. Not rich, not with Ed, not Yale. I want to be with you.” 

Arthur’s blue eyes shown with emotion and surprise, but he was paralyzed by the gravity of it all. She searched his face for a response. “…Arthur?” His tongue felt thick in his mouth, his hands were clammy at his sides. He finally remembered how to move them, then placed both of his large palms on Maisie’s cheeks. “Do you mean it, Maisie?” She smiled and touched his hand. “Will you stay now?” He shook his head incredulously, but never gave her an answer. Instead, he pulled his face to hers and gave her a hard kiss. 

Her mouth welcomed his and met it with the same passion. His thumbs traced over her cheekbones gently, yet pulled her close her. She pulled away to breathe, gasping into his mouth. Arthur had also lost his breath, but had forgotten that she needed hers to survive. His was merely habit. 

He pressed his forehead to hers and closed his eyes. “I can’t tell you how long I’ve waited to hear you say that,” he said breathily. She smiled and pressed her cheek into his hand. “You’ve waited long enough, Arthur.”


	10. Unpacking

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Maisie and Arthur discover her stereo while unpacking.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m so sorry this took so much longer than my other chapters! I was really sick! I hope Arthur’s surprise makes up for it a bit.

Chapter 10

“You’ve waited long enough, Arthur,” she said, closing her eyes. He kissed her again. For a moment, he was afraid he might cry of happiness. A moment later, he decided he didn’t care. He pressed his mouth onto hers, content to spend the next century doing only this. 

 

His hands drifted from her face to her hair, that silky dark hair. It fell around his fingers like water as her hands held onto his hips. Her thumbs hooked his belt loops, pulling his pelvis toward her. Arthur began to wonder if ghosts could get erections without blood flow. His kissed her neck before leaving a nibble at her collarbones. She gave a soft moan. A low, hungry growl escaped his throat when a loud knock on the door interrupted. 

Maisie held his kiss for a moment longer, then drifted away to answer the door. Arthur sighed, immediately missing the heat of her body on his. “Wait...” he thought to himself. “I felt the heat.” He remembered all of those instances when temperature did not phase him. He smiled at Maisie as she walked away, pleased at his discovery. 

“Delivery for a Ms. Walker?” A voice came through the doorway. Maisie nodded. She signed for it, and brought the large box inside. She watched the door as the delivery man walked away. 

“We just got a mattress!” She squealed. “My poor back deserves it, after sleeping on the floor this long!” Arthur eyed the box. “There’s a mattress... in that little box?” She grinned at him. “Just wait.”

She carried the box into her bedroom, where her bed frame already been set up. She cut open the box and pulled out a vacuum-sealed cube. Arthur was still staring with suspicion. She popped the plastic, and the mattress began to swell. It rolled itself onto the bed worth Maisie’s guidance. 

 

“See? We let it sit for a couple of hours, and it’ll be good to go!” Arthur raised an eyebrow. “Ya mean we cain’t just... break it in already?” Maisie rolled her eyes, but her amusement was clear. “Not quite.”

 

Arthur joked, but he was honestly quite unsure about how the semantics of sex would work. His form felt more and more like a body everyday, but that didn’t mean he would be able to use it the way he wanted to. She was able to kiss him, so that was a good sign. He shoved aside the worry for now, as the realization that Maisie said she wanted to be with him lingered in his mind. 

 

“So what’s on the schedule today, Miss Maisie?” Arthur asked. She looked around at the generally empty room. “Honestly, I should start to unpack more. I live here, after all.” He nodded. “Just tell me what goes where, and I’ll be as much help as I can be.” 

She opened the first box. “Oh look! My stereo!” Arthur furrowed his brow as he tried to remember what that was. She pulled a large tower, with two smaller towers out of the box and set them on the floor. She pulled her phone out of her pocket, and music came out of the towers. 

A slick piano slide announced the first song, followed by a low hum. Arthur was half startled by the immediacy of the music, but Maisie lit up. She danced around the room, screaming the lyrics. Arthur laughed at her enthusiasm, which was always so endearing. 

“But when you get the chance... YOU ARE THE DANCING QUEEN! YOUNG AND SWEET! ONLY 17!” She screamed, throwing her hips every which way. She saw Arthur laughing, and ran over to give him a quick kiss before returning to her personal disco. “You are positively wild, woman!” He cackled. She grinned and ran back over again.

“Dance with me, Arthur Morgan!” She reached for his hands. He threw his out of her reach. “Awh no, Maisie, I ain’t much of a dancer.” In their playful struggle to convince Arthur to dance, ABBA faded away. In their place, came a soulful voice and slow piano.

“At last, my love has come along,” Etta James belted. Arthur held up his index finger, noting the change in music. “Now this? I can dance to this.” 

He snaked him arm around her waist and placed his hand in the small of her back. Her other hand looked like a doll’s in his extended one. In general, Arthur dwarfed Maisie. Her head rose to his sternum, and she rested it there while they danced. He pressed a kiss to her forehead before laying his cheek on the top of her head.

“My lonely days are over, a life is like a song,” Etta belted through the speakers. 

 

Arthur held her closer as the song ended “We won’t get much unpacked if we don’t...unpack,” Maisie chuckled into his chest. “Oblige an old, lonely man, Maisie. One more dance.” She pulled away to see his face. “One more dance, if you sing the song.” She smirked like she had found the chink in his cowboy armor. She was wrong. 

He pulled her tight to his chest again, then started to softly sing. 

“Miss Maisie, Miss Maisie  
Won’t you please be mine?  
With your skin oh so fair,  
And your hair dark as night?  
I’d love you forever,  
Til the end of time  
Miss Maisie, Miss Maisie,  
If you’d please be mine 

Miss Maisie, Miss Maisie,  
I’m not sure you know   
My heart, it goes with you  
Wherever you go   
I would give you my love,  
My heart, and my soul  
Miss Maisie, Miss Maisie   
Wherever you go 

Miss Maisie, Miss Maisie   
I wish I could say   
The way that I miss you   
When you go away  
I’d trade heaven and hell,  
It all, if you’d stay  
Miss Maisie, Miss Maisie   
Oh, won’t you please stay? 

Miss Maisie, Miss Maisie,  
May I take your hand?   
I don’t deserve you,  
This I understand   
But you’d be my lady,  
And I’d be your man  
Miss Maisie, Miss Maisie   
If you took my hand”

She slowly pulled away to meet his eyes. “You wrote that for me?” She asked slowly, emotion heavy on her voice. He smiled. “If you didn’t like it, then Sadie wrote it.” 

She chuckled at his joke. “I had no idea you wrote, much less so well.” He shrugged. I used to love to write. I drew too.” Maisie toyed at his collar. “Maybe you could draw me sometime...” “My art is at your disposal, dear.” He kissed her again. She kissed back, but pulled away to finish unpacking. 

He groaned. “Maisie,” he whined. “C’mon...” “You waited a century, Arthur Morgan. You can wait long enough for me to unpack.”


	11. Waiting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arthur and Maisie try to figure out why he can't move on.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I AM SO SORRY FOR HOW LONG THIS TOOK. School has started back up and things have been a wreck. So so sorry.

Chapter 11

Maisie bustled around the room, moving things from their boxes and onto a space in the room. Her stereo continued to play softly in the background. Arthur fiddled with things but didn’t know where to put anything.

She eventually stood back to survey her work. “This ain’t so bad,” she concluded. “Not bad at all.” He smiled at her progress. “It’s nice for this place to feel like a home again.” She came and put her arm around his waist. “And it’s nice to feel at home, for once.”

He absentmindedly kissed her head. “Help me unpack the rest of the house, and maybe we can finish Pride and Prejudice tonight.” She said, patting his chest with her free hand. He nodded and went to help her

~~

 

By the time they had finished, the house did look quite nice. It looked like someone lived there, instead of some squatters living in blankets on the floor. Arthur was happy to see the old place come back to life, and felt similarly about himself. Maisie could never bring him back, truly, but she had given him a purpose. For that, he was grateful.

They settled in on the newly placed couch to finish Pride and Prejudice. Arthur slung his arm comfortably around Maisie, grateful that the tension had finally broken, and he was able to be affectionate without fear. She snuggled in close. 

Turns out, Wickham was a bastard, and Darcy knew about it. That same bastard ran off with Elizabeth’s sister, and Darcy had to track him down. All for Elizabeth, without ever telling her, intentionally at least. Arthur frowned, understanding that then dark-headed dick was really just emotionally constipated, much like himself. He had never been so free with his feelings as he had been with Maisie. She was helping him to change, just like Elizabeth did, but he was still terrified of the intimacy she brought out of him. 

The final credits rolled, and Maisie began picking at Arthur’s shirt. “How long have you worn this?” She asked, mild disgust tinging her voice. He looked down at his shirt and her. “Honestly... since I died, I guess.” He died in his favorite blue cotton button-up. “I never thought to change it.” She raised her eyebrow at him. “Can I try?” He shrugged, and she started at the top button. 

It slid easily out of its casing. She grinned up at Arthur. His eyes grew wide. He hadn’t seen himself naked, shirtless even, since he died. She popped the buttons one by one, until the entire shirt was open.

Gone was the bony weakness of tuberculosis. No, Arthur’s chest reflected his peak form. His shoulders, broad and muscular, coming together at his large pecs. His stomach was taut from hard work and riding horses daily. Maisie took a long, deep breath before reaching to push his shirt off of his arms.

Her fingertips traced across his chest and shoulders, using the side of her hand to push the material away. Her palm stayed flat and warm on his arms. Arthur thought his skin might melt away under her touch. He moved his arms to help her take the shirt off. 

 

She admired her handiwork as he hands lingered around his wrists. “I guess you can get naked, after all,” she said demurely. Arthur looked down at his body, its naked form now unfamiliar. He saw the scars that life had given, but couldn’t remember what each was from. Maisie found the scars too, and grazed her fingers across them. Her thumb traced a large circle on his shoulder. A vague, fuzzy memory of Colm O’Driscoll floated in his mind.

They sat facing each other on the couch, the TV glowing in the background. Arthur looked at Maisie. Alarming self-restraint was the only thing that had kept Arthur from touching her since they had kissed, and it grew weaker every second she stared at his bare chest. He bit his lip as he remembered his biological predicament.

“‘Maisie, I...” he started. “I have no idea how this is going to happen. I’d quite like it to, but I haven’t tried to…use...it... in a long while.” He glanced sheepishly at his pants. She cocked her head and smiled. “Guess we’ll just have to figure out then, hmm?” Her hand trailed down his chest to his thigh. He swallowed hard, but nodded.

She leaned in to kiss him, placing weight in her hand as she did. Arthur felt his thigh grow hot under his palm. Her lips grazed against his, the slight pressure leaving him wanting more.

 

He grabbed her face with both of his strong hands and pulled it to him. She responded without hesitation, gripping her fingers into his leg and letting her tongue slip into his mouth. 

Arthur was more aware of his senses now than ever before. The nerves that seemed to die with him on that mountain were coming alive with a new-found vigor. The heat of her body, the taste of her mouth, the exhilarating pain of her nails in the flesh of his leg... at that moment, he couldn’t be sure that he wasn’t already in heaven. He groaned into her kiss and felt a strange, yet familiar pressure in his groin. 

“Excited already, Mr. Morgan?” Maisie asked tauntingly, pulling away. He blinked as he reeled from her touch. “I, uh... it’s uh... been a long time.” She gave him dangerous look. “If you get this worked up over a kiss... this’ll be fun.” Arthur was simultaneously terrified and in awe of all the things Maisie could do to him.

She sat back and moved her hands away from him. “Touch me.” She said boldly. Arthur blanched. “Touch me, Arthur,” she repeated. He quickly responded to her chastisement, placing his hands on her chest. He sharply inhaled as the softness of her breast pressed into his palm. He found himself frozen like a 15-year-old boy touching a titty for the first time, and in essence, he was. It had been a hundred years and a lifetime ago since he had touched a woman, much less one he loved.

His thumbs rubbed small circles into her flesh as he leaned in to kiss her again. The friction of the fabric of her shirt reminded him that she was still wearing it, and he eyed the hem warily. “You can take it off, y’know,” she smiled at his hesitation. 

He slid his hands up her shirt, placing his large palms on her bare sides. He slowly lifted them, sliding along her soft skin and lifting the shirt as he went. She moved her arms to ease it off. He almost missed the way her hair fell as he pulled it over her head; he was distracted by the new view of her chest and bra. 

The soft pink of her bra seemed to glow against her flushed skin. Her cleavage was gentle and unassuming, but they seemed to float without her bra. Arthur lifted a finger and grazed her jawline, trailing down her neck to the strap on her shoulder. He slid it off to her elbow. 

He lifted the other hand to her jaw as he lowered his mouth onto her neck. He let his teeth graze across the soft of her neck. His heavy hand pushed off the other bra strap. 

“D’you know... how... the clasp works?” she asked breathily. His fingers slid deftly under the clasp and broke their hold. “I’ve fiddled with enough guns, Maisie.” The bra fell forward onto her forearms, and she shrugged it off. 

Pale brown nipples emerged from their sling, and Arthur only took a moment’s appreciation before his hands returned to her chest. He sucked at her neck while giving her breasts a firm squeeze. She moaned happily, leaning back to raise them to Arthur’s mouth. He obliged quickly. He covered her right breast in a wet, sloppy kiss before flicking his tongue against her nipple. When she responded positively, he bit down ever so slightly. 

He worked over both breasts, covering her mounds and sternum with impassioned kisses. When Maisie has decided she had had enough, she pressed firmly on his shoulder. He was confused at first, and didn’t immediately drop her nipple from his mouth. She pushed again, harder this time, knocking Arthur back onto his hands on the couch.

She smirked before placing both of her hands on his thighs. She leaned in to kiss him, looming over him. He kissed her back, but was unused to someone taking the lead so aggressively. His first reaction was to take care not to upset her, then to make sure her needs were met before he met his own. This was new territory; he was definitely into it.

Her leg swung over him so that she was straddling him. Her breasts hung heavily from her chest as she kissed him. He raised his hands to catch them, but she swatted his hand away. He looked at her with frustrated confusion. She simply smirked and kissed his jawline. She kissed lower and lower down his neck until she reached his chest. She pressed her lips gently to his scars as her hands trailed down his sides. Chills race over Arthur’s body. 

He felt so alive. If his heart was beating, it would have been jumping out of his chest. Maisie, Maisie, Maisie. He hardly knew what he did to deserve this. Her dark hair was loose, framing her face as it fell around it. He felt the heat of her breasts as they pressed into his abdomen. Her lips trailed down and down until they reached his belt. He inhaled sharply. 

“Maisie…” he said softly, his voice laced with caution, fear, and arousal. She glanced up at him and brushed her hair out of her eyes. “Just relax,” she cooed as she undid the buckle. She undid the buttons and pulled the fly apart. His erection grew into the open space and strained against his shorts. She admired without touching and smiled up at Arthur. He thought he had come back to life, only to die in this moment, waiting for Maisie to touch him. She gently touched the side of his thigh, signaling for him to raise up. She pulled his pants off and set them on the chair near them. 

She toyed with the waistband of his underwear, watching Arthur’s face as he tried not to squirm. “Maisie…” he moaned again. She grinned devilishly, but obliged his plea. She shimmied them down off his hips, careful not to touch his throbbing cock. The air felt freeing and strange to his body. He was very vulnerable to Maisie in this moment, and the thought scared the hell out of him. His body was nothing special, and he had distanced himself from it a long time ago. But if his body was nothing special, emotionally, he was worse. He didn’t deserve to have such a beautiful soul love him or his body. As much as he wanted her to touch him, to wrap her hands around his member, to feel the soft, wet heat of her tongue on his head, to grab her hips and love her until morning, he couldn’t help but feel like her love and body would be wasted on him. 

“Maisie, I…” he started. She looked up again, thinking his plea was just part of the game. She smiled. “Just relax.” He sat up, shaking his head. “I can’t let you do this.” He said, staring at the floor. She raised her eyebrows and sat back onto the couch. “Can’t let me do what?” He gestured around them. “This. I’m not no Darcy, or Bingley. Hell, even Wickham gets somebody eventually. I can’t let you… love me.” Even in the dark, he could see the hurt in her brown eyes. 

“Is there… something wrong? Is it something I did?” she asked quietly, her domineering bravado gone. “God! No!” Arthur replied incredulously. “You did nothin’ wrong.” He met her gaze, his blue eyes burning with both sadness and passion. “There is nothin’ wrong with you. And that is why I can’t let you do this.” His voice grew quiet, and he studied the wood grain of the floor. “I am nothing more than the dirt under your shoe, Maisie. I don’t deserve to… to love you, to touch you. You deserve the world, and I’m not… good enough, I guess. It’s selfish of me to let you love me, when I know you shouldn’t. I know you deserve better, more than this, more than I can ever give you.” 

She reached for his hand. “Arthur… I’m afraid I don’t quite understand what you mean, or why you’re saying this now.” She said, her tone tense but compassionate. “If you don’t want to do this now, we can wait.” He looked up again and sighed. “Want to? Of course I Want to. It ain’t nothin’ about whether I want to, or whether I want you. Of course I do.” She pressed her lips together. “But you think that any association with you is beneath me?” He nodded. “I just want you to be happy, to live a good life. I can’t give you that.” She shook her head at him. “You really want me to be happy?” she asked. He nodded again. “Mor’an anything.” She touched his bare thigh lightly. “Then why don’t you follow me?” 

She stood up and walked toward her bedroom door. Arthur watched her behind as she walked away. Her breasts swung slightly as she turned to face him again. “Aren’t you coming?” He frowned and stood reluctantly. She was already turning down the quilt when he walked in the room.

She climbed into bed while he stood in the doorway. He was painfully aware that he was still naked, and she nearly was. He scratched his beard uncomfortably, waiting for further instruction. She moved the quilt on the opposite side of the bed and patted the mattress for him to come sit. He shuffled over and sat on the edge of the bed. She scoffed. “Get in here, Arthur, jeez,” He gave her a hard look, but she grabbed his arm and gently guided him onto the rest of the mattress. He refused to lay down, though, and leaned against the headboard. Maisie did the same. 

He looked down at his hands, his bare forearms. He felt her gaze hot on his cheek, but refused to face her. She reached over and turned off the lamp. The darkness fell around them as the tension grew. Moments passed before Maisie broke the silence. 

“Why do you think you’re still here, Arthur?” she said quietly, turning to face him. He shrugged, still avoiding her gaze. “I suppose it’s my punishment for only bein’ good at the end of things. I wasn’t bad enough for hell, but weren’t good enough for heaven. So I’m stuck, I guess.” “Forever?” she asked, the pitch of her voice higher than normal. “Maybe… I dunno.” “What if,” she started. “You were waiting for something?” Her question broke his resolve and he turned to meet her gaze. “Waitin’ for what?” Her voice was barely a whisper when she responded. “Me?” 

He swallowed. “What if,” she said faintly. “You were waiting for me? You had to stick around… to wait for me? To meet me?” He furrowed his brow. “So you could help me move on?” he asked. She gave a sad smile. “I think there’s a lot you could stand to move on from.” He shook his head and looked down again. “Maisie, I… I dunno. I’m a killer, a criminal. I find it hard to believe that I can’t leave this ranch because someone was going to eventually send me a beautiful woman to make me feel better.” She took his hand, forcing him to look up from them. “You’ve had time to ponder your sins. Whether or not I was sent by some divinity to save you, I’m here now. You’re still here. You have the chance to do something good, to love and let love in.” She paused. “Do you really think I’m beautiful?” she asked quietly. His blue eyes shone toward her. “Never have I ever seen someone that draws me in the way you have… the way you laugh, the way you move… the way your eyes light up when you get excited…” He rambled, getting lost in his own description of Maisie. “The word beautiful does not do you justice, Maisie Walker.” He held her gaze and raised his hand to brush away a stray strand of dark hair from her face. She caught his hand as it fell. Their eye contact lingered. “Then show me,” she whispered.


	12. Show and Tell

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Show me."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Smut isn't my strong suit, but I tried!

Spirit of the West  
Chapter 12 

 

“Then show me.” Maisie whispered. Arthur took only a moment’s pause before closing the distance between them. He kissed her hard and fast, grabbing her face to pull her closer. She responded immediately. She moved her legs around his craning torso, and he lifted her into his bare lap. 

He kissed down her neck, his hands grappling at her chest. She leaned her head back to give him more space. 

He leaned forward so that Maisie was on her back below him. Her breasts seem to defy gravity as they spilled off her chest, their brown nipples standing like the peak of fleshy mountains. Her limbs were still wrapped around him, but he moved them away so he could navigate. 

He covered her chest in kisses again, but this time, without the doubt that had plagued him before. He took her right nipple in his mouth and gave it a hard suck. He felt the vibrations of a moan in her chest. He flicked his tongue around it, feeling it swell with his touch. Satisfied, he moved on to the left. 

As he moved, he let his right hand drift down her abdomen. He found her other nipple as he felt around for the button of her pants, which were still on. His finger reached as far down the hem as he could reach, then pulled slowly forward, applying firm pressure over the fabric. Maisie’s hips bucked to meet his hand.

He continued his work on her nipple as his hand picked up a steady rhythm. She quietly moaned under him, grabbing his hair and scratching at his back. After her left nipple was swollen in his mouth, he trailed kisses down her stomach until he reached her pants button. 

He looked up to appreciate the view. Maisie’s knees were spread wide to accommodate Arthur’s laying between them. His kisses had left red blotches on her skin all the way up her neck. Her nipples stood tall and proud out of the breasts beneath them. Her near-black hair splayed out on the bed behind her. He replayed her question in his head. “Do you really think I’m beautiful?” He had never been so sure of beauty in all of his days. 

He undid her pants button and slid his large hands down into the new space, grabbing her hips as he went. He scooped her ass cheeks into his palms and lifted so that he could pull her pants off. He gave them a firm tug and they fell down her thighs. He kept pulling, but started kissing her newly exposed flesh. Goosebumps raised where his lips had been. He smiled to himself as he admired his handiwork. 

Soon, her pants were in a crumpled heap on the floor, and all that stood between Arthur and Maisie was a pair of cotton briefs. Arthur caught himself staring a bit, noticing that her legs were bare and smooth, and her underwear was so… small. Women and style had certainly changed. He was hoping sex hadn’t. He couldn’t specifically remember much, but the longer he stared at her near-naked body, the more he realized that it was less about logic or practice of it and more about the way her magnetism pulled him in, begging him to touch her. 

He didn’t realize how long he had been staring until he saw Maisie wriggle uncomfortably. “Sorry they’re not… cute, I guess.” she said, pressing her lips together. He raised his eyebrows in confusion. “What ain’t cute?” She touched her hair in attempt to hide. “My underwear. I never saw the point in those uncomfortable, lacy things.” Arthur smiled coyly and shook his head. “Maisie, ya cain’t ask me to show ya I think you’re beautiful and expect me not to at least look and make sure.” 

 

He leaned back on his feet, his hand scratching his beard. “Hmmm…” he pondered playfully out loud. “Seems beautiful to me… but what about this?” He popped the waistband of her underwear. “Seems… cute enough, but what’s underneath?” She giggled at his phony interrogation. He slid his thumbs in the waistband and slid it off of her, down to her knees, to reveal her lightly-trimmed pubic hair. He made eye contact with her and let his lower lip pout. “Not bad, not bad at all…” She laughed even more. 

He pulled her underwear off her ankles, and threw it over by her pants. He laid down, his face awfully close to her labia, but not touching it. “Now… what’s in here?” His hand parted her folds very slowly. He kissed at her thighs before approaching her vulva. He sucked her clit briskly into his mouth and rolled his tongue slowly over it. He heard her gasp and felt her contract under his mouth. He released his hold after a heavy moment, and kissed the inside of thigh. “But this? This view?” he said, gazing up from between her thighs. “This…is truly stunnin’.” She looked down at him and smiled, twirling her hair absentmindedly as she laughed. He smiled back and pressed one more kiss into the flesh of her leg before diving back down to the task at hand. 

His tongue slid slowly in a figure-8 around her vulva, encircling her clit and inner labia. He closed his lips around her clit again and gave it a light tug. He heard her breathing sharpen, but he didn’t increase the pressure. Instead, he hummed the song he had sung for her earlier. The vibrations shook through his lips and tongue, and Arthur felt Maisie’s hip flex. She moaned quietly. He hummed a bit louder. Her hand drifted toward his sandy brown hair. He smiled to himself, and let his tongue graze across her ever so delicately. Maisie’s hand grabbed a fistful of his hair and pulled his head closer. Arthur took her cue, and let his tongue work furiously over her swelling pussy. 

She moaned with the full force of her voice, and dug her nails deeper into his scalp. After a century of no sensation at all, it was hard for Arthur not to get lost in the stimulation of the moment. The heat of her body, the way she tasted as she grew closer and closer to climax, the exhilarating pain of her hands urging him on… He did get lost, but only for a moment, until Maisie’s nails reminded him of the task at hand. 

Arthur plunged his tongue deep inside her, using his hands to pull his hips to his face. She groaned and pressed her thighs to his cheeks. He pulled away for a moment and kissed her thighs so he could make more room for himself. His right hand left her ass and snaked its way to Maisie’s soaked and swollen mound. His tongue went back to her clit as he inserted a finger.   
She gasped out, and Arthur hesitated to make sure everything was okay. She didn’t say anything, but dug her nails into his head in a plea for him to continue. 

His tongue lapped deep strokes on her clit as his finger pumped slowly. It felt her pelvic floor contract and release around his digit, and he curled it forward slightly, putting pressure toward her g-spot. Maisie’s back arched at the new angle. She released her nails out of his scalp, and instead began rubbing her hands rhythmically across his head, mimicking Arthur’s rhythm. He took her enthusiasm as prompting, and inserted another finger. 

Her hand moved faster across his head with the new pressure, and he sped up accordingly. Her moans had been unintelligible, but now Arthur was starting to hear his name gasp out on her breaths. “Arthur… Arthur, please…” she simpered. He continued to lick, suck, and pump away as he felt the tension in her pelvis grow. Her cries grew louder and more frequent as her finger nails dug back into his scalp. He knew she was close, but needed something to set her over the edge. 

He hummed again, low and loud. Maisie choked out a breath before screaming his name. Climax racked her body and her thighs tightened around Arthur’s head again. His hand pounded away, trying to help the moment last. 

He gave her one last kiss as she relaxed her legs and hands. She was panting as he sat up. “Arthur, I… whoa…” she gasped out. He smiled lovingly down at her. “Anythin’ for you.” His deep voice quietly rumbled out of his chest. He crawled up to lay beside her in the dark. Maisie opened her arms to invite him to lay on her chest. Her body was covered in a light sheen of sweat, and Arthur noticed that she almost twinkled in the low light. He laid his head on her breast and curled around her. The peace of Maisie’s orgasm settled around them both. It had been so long since Arthur was able to do something for someone else. 

He could hear her breathing and heart rate slow down. She let her hand linger in his hair again, this time gently toying with a lock or two. She pressed a kiss on his forehead. “And what about you, Mr. Morgan?” she asked quietly. He shrugged. “I’m quite content to lay here with you.” She chuckled. “After all of that falderal about you not being worthy of love, you think I’m going to let you get away with not gettin’ some love?” Arthur tensed. “I… I dunno.” She pulled him closer. “I would like to… Can I?” He sat up slightly and pressed his lips together. “I would never suspend any pleasure of yours.” She grinned ear to ear. “Good,” she gave his chest a light shove. “Now lay down.” 

He fell back easily, lying flat on his back as Maisie shifted on top of him. Her knee drifted to his other side so that she could straddle him. The weight of her body and her proximity caused his erection to reawaken, if only slightly. Her breasts pressed into his chest as she leaned down to kiss him, their soft warmth squishing down upon him. Another twinge in his dick. Her mouth was sweet and inviting. Arthur began to feel the love she had promised. 

Her hand reached up to touch his cheek as she kissed him. She was so tender, unlike her playful dominance before. While he knew she meant well, he was too insecure to play along just yet. It felt like his first time being with a woman, being with anyone, really. Emotional intimacy had never been his strong suit, and sex around camp was never his preference either. This… sense of attachment had to Maisie was something special. It made sex special because it was sex with her. He loved her, and it seemed like she could really love him. As he kissed her back, he realized his erection was quite hard and poking Maisie in the ass. 

She didn’t say a word, and hardly broke their kiss, as she lifted her hips and lowered herself onto his dick. The two shared a sharp inhale as their bodies came together. Maisie grabbed his face with both of her hands as she slowly rolled her hips. He groaned into her mouth. He had marveled at sensory experiences thus far, but nothing compared to the soft, wet, heat of being inside her. He placed his hands on her hips and quickened her pace. She gave no hesitation, but shifted her weight forward to better ride him. 

The faster pace only deepened Arthur’s desire for more. He couldn’t wait for Maisie to accelerate on her own, so he grabbed her hips, held them stationary, and began thrusting on his own. She accepted his lead and steadied herself on his chest. 

Arthur pounded away his frustrations into Maisie, feeling more and more in need of some kind of release. They moaned together as their breathing grew shallower. A familiar pressure simmered in Arthur’s groin, but he had no idea what would happen if he came. “Maisie, I-“ he choked out. “I dunno what- what’s gonna happen” She kissed him to silence his fears. “Come for me, Arthur.” she whispered. He groaned into her ear at her words. A few more pumps were all it took before he was granted his release. 

Orgasm was so foreign to him after so long that if he didn’t know better, he might have thought he was dying all over again. He screamed out as he grabbed Maisie’s hips, shoving her down onto his throbbing cock. She rolled with him, staying low and deep. 

She ran her fingers along his cheekbones as he relaxed. She eased up slowly, cautious of any fluid that may have been released. She found none, though. Arthur shrugged at her, and she laid down beside him.

The quiet dark settled around them again, both exhausted from the heat of passion. Arthur heard Maisie’s breathing level off as sleep began to take her. He had slept beside her before, but this was different. He felt human, felt alive. He felt like he had a purpose again. He couldn’t have done it without Maisie. Dark hair covered her face as she drifted to sleep. She looked so peaceful. Arthur had never known this kind of peace, and the emotion began to overwhelm him. He pulled her closer as tears streamed down his cheeks. He kissed the top of her head. “Thank you, Maisie…” he whispered. “I love you.” He felt her cheek tighten on his chest. “I love you too, cowboy.” Her words only made him cry harder, but he had never been so overjoyed to cry before. 

Maisie drifted off to sleep, leaving Arthur alone in his much overdue peace in the quiet night at Beecher's Hope.


End file.
